sand and water

i was with him for about an hour or so last night. he's so different. it felt so queer sitting next to him in the car he'd borrowed from someone.
we went to his mam's house and i sat and watched him from the other side of the room. he has these nervous ticks and twitches now. he looked like an old man. scared. lonely. cold. tired. and bitter.
the whole scene just seemed sad and grey and worthy of tears. but i sip my coffee and smile at his mother and thank her for the big mug in my hands. his eyes don't leave the tv screen. like a vegetable. mouth open. gourmless expression.
i was deflating rapidly, my chest caving in like my bones were made of sand. sand and water mixing inside me, turning my insides into cement.
still a smile on my face.
the lights on her pitiful christmas tree flicker and then all go out. all three of us turn our heads and look. no one says anything. then we turn back to the tv screen.
i felt like i was dying. more sand, more water, more cement, hardening into concrete.
i put my mug down. i ask for a cigarette. i smoke it all without flicking it once.
and all this time my insides are screaming in agony. the cement is setting, almost sold concrete now. i can already feel cracks forming.
and then he drives me home in the car with doors that don't close and no windscreen wipers. we get to my house and he leans towards me. slow motion sets in and i think, "ok, so this is the kiss. maybe this is what we need."
and he kisses me on my forehead.
and the cracks grow and grow, and i shatter into tiny little pieces in the front passenger seat. he doesn't notice though, so i get out and tie the door closed. step into my house and turn to wave goodbye.
he's already gone though.